closer

Tonight the task of swathing the tiger in red velvet will be complete.

not calcutta

A neglectful patch of bloglessness ... I'm now working towards showing the entire body of work that is the vanishing ... all three tigers, 5,000 glass bullets and oh yes a new component that I decided upon just over a month ago.

Of course it involves LOTS of sewing and I'm now sailing close to the wind to complete it, as is often the case.

On my last day in Kolkata, I bought three beautiful white dupattas - the long sheathes of fabric that are worn draped over the shoulders. These ones are very fine cotton, open weave and handloom. Didn't have a purpose or particular idea in mind until discussing the advantages of wall-texts vs. no wall-texts with a friend, I pondered stitching the text I wanted to use on to the dupattas.

So, here is the last and longest that is not yet complete - 'the gift'.

turning 40

Happy Birthday Archana!

nieces

Achintya has about twelve teenage nieces who looked after me on the morning of the puja. We hung out in his grandmother's room on the bed, which works as a huge sofa, while various family members and friends came and went.

I was given 'prasad' ... sweets blessed by the priests, and tea and was introduced to Sayandip, the youngest member of the house at one year old. He was passed around amongst the girls and never touched the ground once. I was very taken with his bagh impersonation, a wide open mouth, screwed up nose and a silent roar every time someone said 'bagh'.

one thousand names

Achintya, who made my tigers, lives in beautiful old family home in Mandirtala, with a joint household of around fifty people. They are Brahmins and have lived there for many generations. The family temple at one end of the compound, is over two hundred and fifty years old and is well known among Hindu pilgrims.

On Tuesday they celebrated Annapurna Puja and invited me to join them. Annapurna is a manifestation of Parvati, Shiva's consort and she is the goddess of nourishment. And Annapurna has one thousand names.

Achintya constructed the deities, as he does for all their pujas.

I took some rasgullas, sandesh and burfi from Jugal's Sweet Shop which were offered to Annapurna for blessing by the priests (Achintya's uncle and brother). They had been chanting since 6.30 am and would continue throughout the day until around midnight. People were coming and going and with all the household there as well, it was bustling and relaxed.

Tonight the family will carry the deities in procession down to the Ganges and immerse them in the river, completing the puja for another year.

victoria

Yesterday I had lunch at Sholo Ana Bangali with Kazima and then went to the Victoria Memorial to see an exhibition of students work from Rabindra Bharati University. There was also an exhibition of paintings and drawings by artists from the West, watercolours and prints from 18th & 19th century which was fascinating.

The Victoria Memorial is self-explanatory and much has been written about it. The monument was commissioned by Lord Curzon, the Viceroy at the time, after Victoria's death in 1901. It cost over ten million rupees and took sixteen years to build. It is an enormous classically designed white marble structure, and quite blinding in the heat of the day.

As we left the Kolkata Pipe Band was standing to one side of the entrance and warming up for a performance. Bagpipes in Bengal, now there is another story.

picking up the pieces

I'm back in Kolkata and back at Khoj, just for a week. Abhida said I could have my old room back and I have to say it is a little like coming home. Tamal, Tapan, Kaushik, Abhi and Smriti were here waiting for me with a cold beer, a delicious meal and a warm welcome.

I walked up to Rashbehari yesterday and bought a few supplies, some fruit, bread, milk. So easy.

Stains on my Chintz closes on Wednesday, after having had a lot of people through the show over the last seven weeks. I have to sort out some freight issues and coming here myself was the easier option than trying to do things by email and phone. It will also be some time before I can jump on a plane and be here in under four hours. Sydney seems like a long way away.

It is so nice to be back at Khoj, though I miss Teresa not being here. This is something she made while working for the Chintz show. Two beautiful woven pieces made up from the offcuts of her large wall installation 'Language Curling in on Itself'. Teresa's weavings are a lovely reminder of the days we worked here in the studio.

The Harrington Street Arts Centre has posted images from the show, and I have attached a link here. It's a little clunky but worth looking through the work and Paula's essay.

http://www.hstreetartscentre.com/Exhibitions/Current.aspx?EvtId=989cfae5-5534-4805-9336-fd00b9adf98e

it grew

Blog-lag apologies! I will post more images and entries post-Kolkata.

Last week was so busy with installing, the opening and then recovering. I think everyone has gone into hibernation for a few days.

I will also post Paula's wall text that gives a very good explanation of her curatorial premise.

I'm off to Flury's for a coffee then an afternoon nap.

sylvia

I've just finished installing 'the vanishing'.

It's part of the show 'Stains on my Chintz', curated by Paula Sengupta and opens tomorrow night at the Harrington Street Arts Centre.

I'm sitting at the computer, and there is a lot of discussion going on down there, Archana's laugh, Tamal's calling out and giving instruction. Dharminder is up the ladder and ten people telling him 'up, down, right, left'.

Happy with the work, in spite of the 5,000 glass bullets still floating out there somewhere on the Indian Ocean.

Sylvia rang about one hour ago. She and Graham arrived tonight. That's her, circa 1940. Hand coloured sepia. I must ask her if she remembers the studio.

I'm about to go out and meet Andrea at the airport, then go home to the Bella Vista and flake.

Chelo!

working hard

I've been trying to write but hands are busy right now. Day two of installing for 'Stains on my Chintz' ... great title!

All works behaving badly, in particular the tiger. The velvet sea is almost done and I'm not leaving the gallery till it's finished.

Oh yes, look at that verandah. My room is just opposite where I'm sitting and sewing.

masala chai

I didn't realise I'd missed my chai on the run stops till I had my first cup on Tuesday morning.
The hot sweet tea, the rough terracotta cup, standing and sipping. A quick pick-me-up.

It's great to be back here in Kolkata, though my time is not so leisurely as before. It's full steam ahead. We begin installing for the exhibition on Tuesday, with four days to complete, and it opens on Saturday 6th Feb, which is also Dominic's birthday.

I'm going into Harrington Street Art Centre this afternoon, to measure up the fireplace and make a template for the velvet spill. Still sewing.

red sea

Bags packed, somewhat overweight.

Contents:

25 kg of glass

6 metres red velvet, gathered and stitched

1 pair scissors

pins

thread - pink and red

Clothes, shoes, yoga mat, notebooks

Heaven's Edge by Romesh Gunesekera,

laptop (almost).

Arriving Kolkata 7.30 pm tonight.

Twelve days till the opening of 'Stains on my Chintz'.

ghost in the machine

no diversion, no distraction

says the sewing machine oracle

no zig zag, no reverse

straight stitch only

going forward

afloat

5,000 or 1,000 invisible objects ... sea or air ... somewhere afloat on the Indian Ocean.

that ocean

The pull of the Indian Ocean is strong. It connects me to places and people as well as to the past and present. I am continually drawn to its blue immensity. And in the light of this discovery, I wonder what else is out there in the depths of that ocean, what else is held in that vast body.

I want to tell you this. The person who became my latest follower, Trevor Kidd, is now part of this connection. I was mistaken, we hadn't met before.

He has been researching the Alkin family and was googling when he found my blog. You see, his grandfather was my great-grandmother's younger brother.

That's him, Reginald Alkin, Trevor's grandfather.

In the last week, Trevor has sent photos, family trees, birth certificates and more, for which I am grateful, intrigued and delighted. It seems that Edward and Kate had ten children. Annie, my great-grandmother was the second. Reginald was the youngest child, born in 1888. He would have been seven when his father died in Madaripore.

Trevor tells me that both Reginald and his brother Horace were sent from Calcutta back to the UK to board at the Asylum of Merchant Seamans Orphans in Snaresbrook. This was 'an institution founded for the support and education of the children of deceased and shipwrecked marines'.

At 15, Reginald joined his family in Calcutta and worked for the Indo-Burma Petroleum Company of Calcutta, as well as the State Shipping Service. In 1918, he married Elizabeth McMahon in Fremantle and two of their children, Avis and Aubrey, were born in Albany.

He died in Sydney, 1941 on the HMAS Kybra and is buried in Rookwood Cemetery.

Trevor lives in Perth and he has Reginald's sea-chest.

purple carpet

Last weekend I went to Perth for my friend Andrea Cartwright's 50th birthday. That's her dog Momo.

Perth is awash with blossoming trees at this time of year. Purple jacarandas, orange christmas trees, melaleucas, red flowering gums.

It was hot, 39 degrees on Saturday and we swam in the ocean.

When I was on the other side of the Indian Ocean, just over two weeks ago, I noticed a new follower on my blog. Trevor Kidd was the only one I didn't know personally. I sent him a message, thinking we may have met through mutual friends. I even thought we had connected in Perth when I lived there years ago, his name seemed familiar.

If I had been more attentive to my blog, I would have read the message from him via Liz Chater in the UK, wanting to contact me. If I had been more attentive, I could have met him when I was in Perth.

where things begin and end

I've always been drawn to the edge, where one surface meets another, where one thing finishes and another begins. Conjunctions, boundaries, places of transformation.

My Masters research gave me an opportunity to give this deeper thought and look more closely at thresholds and liminal space. I read widely, wrote a paper and worked in the studio. The tiger from my father's childhood, the zoo, Calcutta ... all was on hold.

And once free of this course, I began to consider the tiger in a light of liminality, particularly in relation to colonisation and control. Skin, claws, teeth were all covetable trophies to be had. A demonstration of culture over nature, of man over beast, of ultimate power. I began to seek out these feline relics of the Raj.

When I visited London earlier this year, I found several pieces of jewellery made with tigers' claws in various collections. This necklace made from tigers claws and gold (c. 1865) is in the South Asia Room at the Victoria and Albert Museum. It was purchased from the Paris International Exhibition in 1867. Each claw is between 30-40 mm long and about 30 mm wide. They are quite thin with a fine edge and a sharp point. The claws also have an interesting 'grain' and subtle variations in tone and colour. The sign suggested that tiger claw jewellery was worn as a protection from evil, and was very popular among the British as an 'exotic souvenir of their life in India'.

I want to make a set of claws, one that I can wear, on my fingers ... just in case.

tiger trace and time to go

Today is the last day of my residency and I've been sitting at the computer most of the morning. The doorbell has been busy. One person called to see if I was interested in a portable gas stove cooking demonstration, a man from the water company downstairs came to collect the empty bottle, and someone else came looking for a Khoj person. I managed 'no thank you', 'it's here' and 'come back at three' ... in Hindi.

I haven't told anything of the Sunderbans trip as yet and I have some photos I'd like to share, so I will add some more posts post-Kolkata. However, here is one of my favourite images.

One morning in the Sunderbans, we came across some tiger pug marks. Sambhu said they were very fresh, probably from early that morning. They emerged out of the water, across the mud and disappeared into the mangrove forest. This tiger had swum across from one island to the other, most likely in search of food, a distance of about 1 kilometre. Just a trace.

It's my last day, and there is still more to write. And much more to think about. It has been an amazing experience, or rather an accumulation of experiences, that I'm sure I'll carry with me for a long time. I farewell some good friends and look forward to meeting them again. I will return in late January to finalise and install the work for the exhibition at Harrington Arts Centre.

A huge thank you to Khoj for hosting my residency, for their generosity and in making me feel so at home here. It has been great to share many things, especially all the fantastic meals we've eaten together. I can't recall how many conversations I've had with my friends about food and cooking. At the end of the day, friends, family and food is what sustains us all. I'm very glad to have been included in theirs. Special thanks to Abhida, Smriti, Bhutu, Kaushik, Paula, Chhatra, Tamal, Kazima and Sayak.

JOY MA!

bread

There is such a fabulous variety of breads here in Kolkata. My local dhaba, Azad Hind, has a bread maker out the front. Last night he was making rumalis over an upturned dome made of terracotta. We had a small mountain of them with dinner on Monday back at Khoj. They are paper thin, light and delicious.

Rumali means handkerchief.

khoj songfest

Dinner and drinks after my presentation, back at Khoj. Any gathering eventually ends up with singing ... and this began with the national anthem (hence they are standing ... Oindrilla, Prabhat, Chhatra, Saikat, Tamal, Abhida, Kaushik).

As part of the Khoj residency tradition, I was requested to sing something. Blankness gave way to one feeble verse of that fine drinking song ... Nico's After Hours. My Bengali friends love to sing and have an incredible wealth of songs, from traditional to Tagore. They also have beautiful voices.